


You Landed on My Mind

by ivegotfireforaheart



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, Girl Direction, Holidays, Horseback Riding, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7049215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivegotfireforaheart/pseuds/ivegotfireforaheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry decides she wants to leave her uni and friends behind for a gap year to get to know herself, Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn decide to drag her along to France for a trip together first. And, really, Harry is completely fine with spending time so close to Louis. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Landed on My Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimilou96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimilou96/gifts).



> For the lovely Mimilou96 - I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it <3
> 
> Then, the biggest thank you to my beta, AM. You inspire me so much in every aspect of my life, I don't think you know how much that means. You are beautiful and make this world a better, brighter place. As for the fic: the way you constantly made time for me and sparked my imagination, and your constructive criticism and words of encouragement helped me so so much. I don't think this would be finished now, if it wasn't for you.
> 
> And to A - my other beta. Without you, I'm not sure I'd even have written the first bits. You inspire me to write, but you're also helping and inspiring me in other ways for which I can never thank you enough. 
> 
> And to P - not my beta, but my rock all the same. Knowing you're always there for me is the best thing, and I promise you I will always be there for you.
> 
> The title is from Jason Mraz's "Butterfly".
> 
> Now, to all of you reading this, I hope you'll enjoy <3

‘ _The only thing I know, is that I know nothing.’  
  
_ Harry has always found comfort in these words from Socrates. The man who annoyed half of Athens and the very same one who made Plato cream his pants. Harry likes him.  
  
See, she, too, doesn't know anything. That much became clear after this school year. A year of moving out, studying business and partying, and simultaneously a year of ‘oops, fuck, wrong decision’-s. It's been a learning experience for sure. Now, Harry has finished her first year of business studies, has quit said studies, and is about to move to the south of England to work in tourism for at least half a year, maybe do some photography on the side.  
  
Mostly though, she's hoping to get some clarity as to the who's and how's and what's of human life, and more specifically, her own. So no, Harry doesn't know anything. This also means she has no clue how she's going to survive two weeks of being stuffed into an old, possibly dying car with four fully grown girls - her four best friends from secondary who insisted on a holiday with her before she will be miles away from them - sleeping in tents and sharing a bed with Louis. Despite the impending chaos - or just maybe, because of it - she can't wait.  
  
“Pink ones, Harry, I know you have pink ones,” Nick’s voice is saying through the phone. Harry has long since put him on speaker. She’s too busy to hold a phone right now, what with that staring pensively at her closet and enjoying the freedom of only wearing underpants.  
  
Harry snorts. “I haven't worn those since I was, like, fourteen.” She pokes at the huddle of bikinis on the shelf in front of her. “And anyways, Fizzy has them now. The top, at least.”  
  
“Fizzy Tomlinson?” Nick sounds oddly surprised, considering Harry and Louis have been practically living out of each other's pocket ever since they met, with their families getting along really well as well.  
  
“Yeah, you might know her eldest sister?” Harry says sarcastically. “French name…”  
  
“Of course I know your girlfriend, Harriet.”  
  
“She isn't,” Harry says automatically, even though Nick knows this. Nick mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘might as well be’. Harry disagrees.  
  
“Fine,” Nick says, louder this time, “no pink ones. You choose, then. What do you have?”  
  
Harry grins, playing with the clasp of her newest bikini top. “Yellow ones.”  
  
Nick lets out what sounds like something between a laugh and a groan. “Of course you do. Alright, ignore everything that is sacred and just take those.”  
  
Harry triumphantly flings the yellow set onto her bed, where a pile of ‘to be packed’ clothes has already accumulated. She gets her phone off speaker and puts it to her ear, strolling over to the bed to study the collection of clothes.  
  
“Good,” she says after a few moments, satisfied. “That's done, then.”  
  
“Finally,” Nick moans.  
  
“Says you,” Harry answers, raising her eyebrows. Seriously, it's been half an hour tops. Maybe another one before Nick called. No one needs to know. “You do remember that time when we were-”  
  
“Anyways,” Nick says loudly, “you'll be here for dinner?”  
  
Harry shakes her head fondly. “Yes, I'll be there.Take-away would be good, by the way.”  
  
“Excuse me, what about my world famous spaghetti bolognese then?” Nick says, mock offended. To be fair, his spaghetti really is quite good; he's cooked it a lot for the two of them this past year, her and Nick getting together for proper student meals every now and then.  
  
“How could I forget?” Harry feigns clearing her throat. “Dear Nick Grimshaw, would you please do me the honour of cooking me your amazing spaghetti bolognese for one final time?”  
  
“Alright, just repay me by kissing Louis sometime in the next two weeks,” Nick tells her. And really, they've become great friends since the start of the school year, when both of them had still been innocent and bright-eyed and... Well. Maybe not that innocent.  
  
Point being, Harry loves Nick, but he seems to be under the assumption that Harry and Louis are in love with each other, which is just wrong, thank you very much. They've been best friends ever since they met three years ago, but come on, everyone's pulse slows down when they're in the arms of their best friend. And anyone with vision can appreciate Louis’ arse. Right?  
  
“See you tonight, Nick,” Harry says, smiling.  
  
“See you, Harry.”

 

When Harry has her suitcase at the front door and a small bag around her shoulder, all set for two weeks in France with her four best friends, she turns to find her mum watching her, ready to say goodbye, since Harry is going to go over to Nick’s in Manchester now. Liam will be collecting her and the other girls there tomorrow morning.  
  
Anne smiles softly at her, her eyes shining in that secret way, the one she seems to reserve for her and Gemma only. After answering Anne’s questions (“Sunscreen?” “Check”, “Passport?” “Right here”, “Tampons?” “No need for those, mum, I'm good”), she takes a few quick steps to her mum's side, throwing her arms around her neck and hugging her tight. Maybe a little too tight.  
  
“Harry,” her mum protests, “I can't breathe.”  
  
“Love you too.”  
  
“Love you, baby.” Harry can hear the smile in her mum's voice. She tightens her hold once more before letting go and stepping back, pressing a kiss to her mum's cheek. Harry takes her suitcase, Anne tells her to call and be careful and, of course, to have fun. Harry promises this, blows a kiss - and then she's out of the door, her first steps on her way to two weeks of sun and France.  
  


\--  
  


There’s another honk and Harry’s phone buzzes.  
  
“Nick, you tit,” Harry groans, hopping up and down, trying to get into her black skinnies.  
  
“I just pressed snooze, like, once!” Nick says from where he’s still lying on his bed.  
  
“On _my_ phone.” Harry grabs her phone and answers it. “Hello?”  
  
“Harry!” comes what is unmistakably Louis’ voice, tinged with sarcastic joviality. “You’re awake!”  
  
Harry represses a smile. She is very serious and not at all amused by the situation or Louis, no, no. Absolutely not.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she says, picking up her shirt from the couch, “I’ll be downstairs in a bit, just have to brush my teeth.”  
  
Nick is gesticulating busily, pointing at where Harry is holding the phone to her ear. “I think Nick wants to talk to you, though?”  
  
With Nick nodding and Louis agreeing to it, she hands over her phone and leaves for the bathroom. She can already hear Nick’s loud, teasing voice behind her and knows Louis is probably no better. They’ve met a few times, and immediately got on like a house on fire. In a sort of chaotic, literal sense.  
  
When she emerges from the bathroom a short ten minutes later, Nick and Louis are still on the phone.  
  
“Look who’s done washing her face,” says Nick. Harry rakes a hand through her curls, the tips of them wet, and throws her towel towards Nick, who catches it easily and smirks at her.  
  
“Yes,” he continues into the phone, “she’s ready. Alright. Yes, take care of her fragile white skin - says me, yes. Bye, Louis.” He hangs up and hands Harry her phone back.  
  
Harry flashes him a smile and grabs her suitcase and bag, her heart beating loudly. It’s been weeks since she last saw Louis. Nick gives her an unusually intense look.  
  
“You take care, yeah?” he says, stepping closer and hugging Harry. “She can be loud and brash, but you know- that’s a thing that people who are like her and me do. When it matters.”  
  
Harry is speechless for a second, a little overwhelmed with the mix of affection and slight panic she’s feeling. She doesn’t know what to think of Nick’s words - can’t, really.  
  
“Thank you,” she says softly. “I will.”  
  
Nick nods. “Now, shoo. Go have a great trip.”  
  


\--  
  


It’s so good to see Louis again, it’s a little ridiculous. _I missed you, missed you, missed you._ Harry’s veins are thrumming with it. She laces her fingers in her lap where she’s sat riding shotgun, hoping it will refrain her from doing something silly like reaching out and tracing a finger over Louis’ arm. _So soft, missed you_  -  
  
Louis had hugged her so tight when Harry had finally emerged from Nick’s flat, both of them leaning over the control panel to meet in the middle. And Harry, she’d just felt so safe and warm, and a little dizzy with the familiar scent of Louis’ perfume. The whole thing was a bit overwhelming, and she still hasn’t recovered from it, if she’s honest.  
  
They’re on their way now to the flat that Zayn, Liam and Niall share, just chatting away. Harry thinks they could be apart for years and still fall right back into conversation. Louis is just telling her about her youngest twins’ adventures when they pull up at the flat. Liam and Zayn are standing by the side of the road with two suitcases, and a bag that is probably Zayn’s. Louis has a similar one, Harry saw. She isn’t really surprised to learn Zayn and Louis have a thing for underpacking, but Harry is _not_ giving up her cute new skirt when they realise this themselves.  
  
Louis puts the car in park, hitting the car horn a few times again for good measure - as you do at nine in the morning. Harry punches her in the shoulder. Softly.  
  
So what. It’s worth it for the smile it gets her.  
  
Zayn and Liam roll the suitcases over, Liam carrying Zayn’s bag.  
  
“Where’s Niall?” Louis calls to where Zayn is struggling to pull open the trunk. Louis had a rough time with it, too, before, when she was opening it for Harry. It must be a bit rusty. Like the rest of the car.  
  
“Left her,” Zayn says with a shrug. Louis narrows her eyes at her, but doesn’t get a chance to answer, interrupted by a knock on the window. Niall is smiling at them, her bleached hair a little sleep-ruffled still.  
  
“Morning, you rowdy fuckers,” she says loudly. “Had to pee, we were waiting so long.”  
  
Zayn flashes Louis a satisfied grin. Liam and her are finally done shoving the suitcases and bag in the trunk and they all get in, Niall muttering darkly about Harry stealing the front seat.  
  
“Alright,” Louis calls, “fasten your seatbelts, please, because _we are off!_ ”

 

They’ve been driving for almost four hours and Liam is trying really hard not to turn around and strangle Louis, it seems. They’re nearing the Channel Tunnel, and Liam has taken over driving, so Louis and Zayn have taken charge of the music.  
  
“Louis, if you play _Grease Lightning_ one more time, I swear to God-,” Liam threatens, not raising her gaze from the road.  
  
“Zayn only plays sex songs, and Niall hasn’t realised there’s music outside of what long-haired hipsters or old men make. You prefer that, huh?” Louis complains.  
  
“It’s called good music, Louis,” Zayn replies. “If the songs are about sex, so be it.” Harry turns in her seat to see Niall shrug, unruffled after spending nearly every day with Louis and the others for years. Harry swears she can see Louis’ finger hovering above _Summer Nights_ and suppresses a grin.  
  
“What about me, then?” she asks. “What is my misguided music taste?”  
  
“What music taste would that be, Harry?” Louis says, a teasing note in her voice. “Because clearly, you don’t have one.”  
  
Niall snorts. Harry flips both of them off and shakes her head, maybe a little fond.  
  
“Alright, enough of that, put Little Mix on,” Liam says, ending the discussion. Louis only complains once after that, when Zayn perks up at _ADIDAS_.

  
\--  
  


They reach Calais that evening, their first stop. They’ve booked two small hotel rooms, one for Harry and Zayn, and for Niall, Liam and Louis. Of course, they all stay up too late, huddled together on Harry and Zayn’s double bed, catching up on each other’s lives and dreams.  
  
“I missed you guys,” Niall says with a sigh. “We all got quite caught up in our own thing this year, didn’t we?”  
  
She is right; with all five of them going off to university, trying to balance studying and building a new social life, they lost touch a bit, even if they did visit each other from time to time. In college they were together practically every day.  
  
“Yeah, we did. I missed you, too,” Zayn says. “It’s just different, isn’t it? Uni.” They all nod solemnly.  
  
“Different,” Liam agrees, “but fun, too.” The others murmur their assent. Harry shrugs a little helplessly. Sure, there were some fun aspects, but mostly, Harry had been trying not to let it all get to her this year. Hence her year off.  
  
Niall gives her a kind look.  
  
“You didn’t really find your niche, did you, Harry?” she asks.  
  
“Not really, no,” Harry says. Even though she feels, _knows,_ this is the right decision for her, it still feels odd to drop out of uni, even if she has every intention of returning to it, since she does enjoy learning new things and specialising in something. Just not business studies, and not now.  
  
“Hey,” Liam says gently, “you know that’s okay, too, right?” Harry tries not to shrug again, because she _does_ know, but still.  
  
“When it’s not right, it just isn’t,” Zayn adds. “I think life is too short not to do what feels right to you.”  
  
“And it’s no shame to quit a course you’re not enjoying. Bressie did too, and didn’t Ruth change her mind at least four times, Li?” Niall says. Liam nods.  
  
“It’s just - it’s scary,” Harry confesses softly. “And sometimes I just feel like… like I don’t really know who I am outside of other people? And I might miss home, too.” She feels a little exposed, can’t help making eye contact with Louis, who is sat on the other side of the bed and who’s been oddly quiet so far. Louis extends her leg so her big toe is touching Harry, a small sign of reassurance. It makes it easier to breathe.  
  
“You’re not alone in that,” Niall assures her. “It’s okay to feel like that, we all do sometimes, I think. And if you feel like you need to work for a bit, if you want to go somewhere else to figure things out, why the fuck wouldn’t you?”  
  
“And we all definitely have days where even those of us who have always known what they wanted to do, aren’t sure,” Liam says.  
  
Harry can see Zayn smile and put a hand on the small of Liam’s back, a quiet agreement.  
  
“We’re always changing and learning, and it’s good to move along,” Zayn says.  
  
“Yes,” Louis says, speaking up for the first time, voice raspy, “even though some parts about you may stay the same and stay with you, you should do what feels right, Haz, as fucking hipster as that sounds. And home can be a feeling, too, I think. You know? When you feel strangely safe with people and everything has a sense of peace? I think that comes from within you, too, not just the other person.”   
  
She falls silent, cheeks reddening a bit, but Harry has no time to figure out why that is. Louis finds her voice again, and firmly adds: “If you want to find all that by moving 280 miles down, you bloody well should be able to.”  
  
Harry nods, feeling such a strong rush of affection for the people around her; her four girls who are all so different, so strong and thoughtful in their own ways, yet also so similar to her. She wants to tell them how much they mean to her, say ‘I love you’, but Louis catches her eye then, and suddenly she can’t. It feels like too much.  
  
She leans in and grabs them all for a big, clumsy group hug instead.

  
\--  
  


Breakfast at the hotel the next morning is spent mostly in silence, all of them regretting staying up late, but excited to get to their destination - Annecy. It will probably take them about nine more hours, counting gas and pee breaks. Like the day before, Louis, Liam and Niall will drive, since Zayn and Harry don’t have their license yet.  
  
Two hours into the next half of their trip and the sweat is trickling down Harry’s back. Niall and Louis’ incessant bickering isn’t really helping. Louis is gesturing wildly from where she’s pressed between Harry and Niall, her arm pushing against Harry’s every now and then in the process. Harry is _burnin’ up_ , as the Jonas Brothers would say. Sing. Whatever.  
  
“Niall, shut the fuck up,” Louis snaps. “Liam will stop at the next gas station. You can pee to your heart’s content there.”  
  
Niall wrinkles her nose. “Great.” She’s quiet for a few seconds, before she adds: “Can we get some food there, too? I’m kinda hungry.”  
  
\--  
  


They’ve been in Annecy for three days now, and Harry has completely fallen in love with the bubbly, colourful atmosphere of the city and its vaguely famous lake.  
  
There are people cycling everywhere, little boats on the water, young musicians playing the violin and making curtsies when you give them some money. Higher up there are people paragliding from the mountains, and Louis and Liam considered going for a bit, but learning the prices of a single flight had definitely killed some of the allure of it all. Enough for them to decide against it in the end.  
  
There is, however, something Harry wants to do, and she is very much going to take Louis along. They’re going horse riding.

  
\--  
  


Harry’s heart is pounding in her throat, her hands a little slippery on the wheel, both from the excitement and the heat. They’re driving with the windows down and she can see Louis almost bouncing with excitement in the passenger’s seat. The second the smell of the stables - of horses - gets carried into their car, something inside of Harry settles.  
  
“Look at them, Haz,” Louis says, somewhat breathless. Harry parks the car, then follows her gaze past the sturdy white house on their right, to the stables and meadows behind it, filled with a variety of horses.  
  
They look healthy, if a little dusty, some pricking up their ears curiously to see who has arrived. When Harry looks back at Louis, she finds the girl already looking at her, her eyes lit up in excitement. Before she can think better of it, Harry grabs her hand and squeezes. Louis repeats the gesture without missing a beat, her smaller hand resting in Harry’s bigger one.  
  
It must be nerves that send sparks flying from where their skin is touching, Harry thinks. It’s been two years since she’s been up on a horse. She untangles their hands and rolls the windows up, her cheeks a little warm.  
  
A small, dark-skinned woman approaches them when they get out of the car. Harry stumbles a little as she tries to check if the car is locked and goes to sling her backpack over her shoulder at the same time.  
  
“Welcome,” the woman says with a warm smile, holding out her hand for them to shake. “I’m Marianne, the owner.”  
  
Louis shakes her hand first and introduces herself, then Harry does.  
  
“You’ve spoken with my husband Daniel on the phone, I think?” She has a light accent, pronouncing Harry’s name the way Harry is growing fond of. _Arí.  
  
_ The girls nod.  
  
“Perfect. Now, there are a few papers I would like to see, and some that you will have to sign,” Marianne explains. “If you will follow me, please.”  
  
There's a lot of paperwork, and Harry can't say she's exactly paying attention, too distracted by the prospect of getting on a horse soon and having Louis with her along the way. She tries, though, and signs where she needs to, knowing that Louis isn't much better off. It takes a few minutes, but then Marianne perks up, smiling brightly at them.  
  
“Alright!” She says, and claps her hands, the business part done. “Let’s go meet the horses.”  
  
Marianne walks out, Louis following her first. They’d already dressed in their horse riding clothes before they left, and she just looks amazing in her dark blue breeches and brown riding boots, wearing a short, simple t-shirt with it, and letting her hair down, having it loosely frame her face. This morning had been a bit of a struggle, with both of them trying to get into their old horse riding gear, but they’d managed.  
  
Right now, there’s a bit of a different struggle for Harry, though, a sort of sinking realisation that’s both unbelievably scary and incredibly exciting. She's not brave enough to name it already, but it's there, waiting for her to acknowledge it. She doesn't really want to yet, if she's honest with herself.  
  
Marianne’s voice breaks through Harry’s thoughts.  
  
“Here we are,” she says, gesturing at the two horses in the stables in front of them. “These will be your horses for the afternoon.”  
  
Harry automatically steps forward to the horse closest to her, a beautiful reddish-grey mare that immediately peaks her ears when Harry crows a soft _hello_ at her. Her nose is velvety soft, her breath warm and steady on Harry’s skin.  
  
“That one’s Peppermint,” Marianne tells her, then turns to the horse Louis is already scratching on the side of the head. The horse is a lovely shiny chestnut with a star, but it’s the look in Louis’ eyes that takes up Harry’s attention - it’s endlessly gentle and somewhat awed.  
  
Harry can’t look away.  
  
“And that’s Nimbus, Louis.” Marianne smiles. “It seems like you have both chosen your horse already. You can start brushing and saddling them, and Jerôme, our stable-hand, will join you later. He will also find the right helmets for you.”   
  
“Thank you,” Louis says, looking up to give Marianne a grateful smile.   
  
“Yes, thank you so much,” Harry repeats, tearing her gaze away from Louis.  
  
“Of course, and enjoy your ride, girls! Please call if you need anything.” With that, Marianne turns around and walks back to the house.  
  
“I take Nimbus then?” Louis checks, turning to Harry. Nimbus answers her by butting her head against Louis’ upper arm, making Harry crack a smile as Louis giggles.  
  
“Sure,” she says. “The horse chooses the rider, Louis.”  
  
She realises her mistake a second too late and quickly closes the distance between them to put her hand over Louis’ mouth.  
  
“Don’t you dare,” she threatens. What sounds like a French family passes by them, the youngest boy talking in an excited voice.  
  
“Yer-” Louis giggles, turning her head this way and that to get away from Harry’s hand.  
  
“Yer a-” Harry presses her hand down firmer, ignoring the blush that has started creeping up her ears. She vaguely notices the mother of the French family looking over at them, her sharp eyebrows raised. Of course, Louis chooses that moment to lick at her hand. Harry yelps and pulls her hand back, her cheeks burning. She barely registers the tutting sound coming from the woman with her family.  
  
“Yer a wizard, Harry,” Louis says triumphantly, clearly oblivious to Harry’s inner turmoil.  
  
“I hate you,” Harry answers. The young boy is pulling the woman along by her hand now, and Harry takes a breath to calm herself. Louis just grins and walks past her to grab the brushes.  
  
Before Harry can turn back to her horse, she is startled by a warm breath tickling her neck and turns to find Peppermint with a mouthful of her hair. She laughs, carefully pulling it free.  
  
“You like that, eh? It’s a very special coconut shampoo,” Harry tells the horse. Peppermint responds happily, moving her lips to Harry’s ear instead, nibbling there. It sends goosebumps down Harry’s neck.  
  
“Seems like you taste good,” comes Louis’ voice from behind. Which, no.  
  
“You’d know, you’re the child that just licked my hand.” There. Safe.  
  
“Hmm.” Louis nods thoughtfully, handing Harry a set of brushes as if Harry isn’t having a meltdown on the inside.  
  
Before either of them can make the situation worse, a man in black breeches and a white woollen vest walks over to them. Clearly, the French don’t feel heat.  
  
“Bonjour, mesdemoiselles,” the man says when he’s within hearing distance. “My name is Jerôme, if you will follow me to get your helmets, please.”  
  
Jerôme turns out to be an energetic, kind person, very patient, and happy to chat away while Harry and Louis look for helmets that fit them.  
  
After that, time passes in a whirl of brushing the horses, cleaning their hooves and saddling them. Then, with some last advice from Jerôme, it’s suddenly time to actually get up on their horses and get their little adventure started.  
  
If Harry was a bit nervous about it all, it turns out that was all in vain. Admittedly, she’s a bit rusty at first, but a little over half an hour in and she couldn’t be happier. She’s back on horseback, the sun is gently dancing over her skin, and - well, she’s with Louis. Harry doesn’t think about how Louis being here makes her feel warm and calm in a way no sunshine or horse has ever done. She doesn’t.  
  
So - it’s all kind of perfect, really. Peppermint seems to be enjoying herself as well, her ears peaked and her step light. Harry revels in her gentle sway, the way her mane feels curled around her fingers and the dull sound of hooves on sand.  
  
Suddenly, breaking the peaceful spell Harry’s been under, Louis suggests a gallop. A mischievous glint shines in her eyes and there’s a long, sandy road ahead of them, closed off to cars, and really - how could Harry say no?  
  
Galloping - some would say it’s like flying, maybe. But when they’re off, Louis and Nimbus in front of them, dust flying up in their trail, Harry and Peppermint not far behind, Harry disagrees. She can feel the gritty sand get on her face and in her mouth, the wind beating on every other inch of her skin, the strong beating of hooves beneath her, and in that moment, galloping couldn’t feel less like flying. It’s brutal, instead, so very in touch with the earth, like they could split it open if they’d want to. It’s perfect.  
  
When they all slow down again, they’ve fallen a bit behind, her and Peppermint, so Harry trots up to take her place by Louis and Nimbus’ side again. Louis immediately turns to her, twisting in the saddle, locking their eyes, and Harry - Harry can’t _breathe_.  
  
Louis’ smile is absolutely radiant, extends way past the quirk of her lips; it’s there in the crinkles by her eyes - those endlessly blue eyes -, in the soft lines of her body and in the way her hands are running, almost reverently, over Nimbus’ neck. Harry’s heart is pounding loudly in her ears, and she knows, _she knows,_ that it isn’t from their gallop. She can feel the reason right there in the tingle of her fingers, or the way her whole body is thrumming with the need to touch Louis, to kiss Louis.  
  
Neither of them say anything. They don’t have to. Sometimes, Louis gets this open look about her, one that Harry has only ever seen when they’re alone, and it feels like sharing a secret, like she’s saying, ‘here, I trust you’. Harry is scared of what her own expression might betray right now, because...  
  
Because she’s in love with Louis. _Fuck.  
  
_ The rest of the ride is amazing, but Harry has trouble focusing on much else than her realisation - and if the Little Mermaid’s _Kiss the Girl_ could just stop playing in her head that’d be grand, thanks. The thing is, they’ve been friends for so long, her and Louis - close friends, too, or so Harry thought. Could it be there had always been something else between them, too? Something that’s settled under her skin, warm and comfortable, without her noticing? A constant yearning that she’s learned not to question anymore, not to touch? Harry is scared to really think about the answer to that.  
  
 _Sha-la-la-la-la-la_

_Don’t stop now_

_Don’t try to hide it how_

_You wanna kiss the girl  
  
\--  
  
_It was Liam’s idea to go swimming. Harry is going to punch Liam. Really, she would, if it weren’t for the awful puppy eyes Liam gets while she’s watching Harry grumble where she’s sat on a beach towel. It’s just. After realising certain _things_ Harry shall not go into further, it’s somehow even more torturous to watch Louis in a bikini. A black, strapless bikini, at that. Harry is fucked.  
  
The others clearly don’t share the sentiment. Zayn is sunbathing, flipping through a book, and Niall and Louis have run off to the sea.  
  
“You could just tell her, you know,” Liam says gently.  
  
“Hmm?” Harry says. And really, she deserves an Oscar.  
  
“ _Harry.”  
  
_ At Liam’s sharp tone, Harry’s resolve crumbles. “Li, I don’t - I can’t, I mean, what if -” Harry is wringing her hands anxiously, searching for the right words. Liam seems to take mercy and scoots closer to her.   
  
“Come here,” she says, pulling Harry in for a hug. Harry goes easily, feeling Liam’s strong arms around her and closing her eyes. It’s not quite alright yet, but she will figure it out.  
  
  
Later on, when the sun has set, the five of them are sat around the campfire, stuffed with marshmallows. Harry feels a bit lost, having trouble focusing on the conversations around her - which is probably why Niall’s loud yawn makes her shoot upright in her chair.   
  
“Reckon I should be off to bed,” Niall says. She shoots Liam what she probably thinks is a very discreet wink. It’s really not. Harry can see it, and she’s instantly suspicious.  
  
“Yeah,” Liam agrees - and wait, no, now Zayn is getting up from her little plastic chair too, stretching lazily.  
  
Louis gives Harry a confused look that must mirror Harry’s own. “It’s not even, what, eleven? What’s this?” Louis asks.  
  
“Don’t complain, Louis,” Zayn says, “just let us get our rest.” And - what? Harry can feel the tension that seemed to be lingering around the fire all night amplify now.  
  
“Good night,” Niall says, and waves, as her, Liam and Zayn leave their little circle and head towards their shared tent.   
  
“Alright then,” Louis says, turning to Harry with raised eyebrows. “I guess we should let them have their orgy in peace.”  
  
Harry snorts a laugh. “Wouldn’t want to walk in on that, no.”  
  
She turns back to the fire after that, watching the way the flames dance and reach for the star speckled sky. Harry can feel the heat burn slightly on her cheeks and her forehead, but it’s not even close to the feverish feeling she gets from the way Louis is gazing at her. This heat is all over, and it’s there far beneath her skin too.  
  
The fire crackles on, and the crickets never cease their chirping, yet it feels like the forest is holding its breath, waiting. The air has thickened to the point of near combustion. Harry can relate. If she looks at Louis now, things are going to explode one way or another. Their eyes lock.  
  
“Kiss me,” Harry whispers. Louis’ breath ghosts over her lips and Harry is losing it, her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest, and she needs, she hopes -  
  
Louis closes the distance between them.  
  
Their lips move roughly, but with a note of reverence behind it. Harry clutches Louis’ face in her hands, brushes her thumbs over her cheeks. When they pull back for air, their foreheads resting together and noses brushing, Harry finally lets out a startled laugh. Louis presses a short, sweet kiss to her lips in answer. Their hands keep roaming over the other’s body, and Harry shivers when Louis’ hand dips to touch her lower back.  
  
“This okay?” Louis says softly against Harry’s lips. Her hand has moved up again, fingers light on Harry’s spine, like a question.  
  
“ _Yes,_ ” Harry says urgently, “But, Lou, what-?”  
  
Louis leans back to lock their eyes. There’s a flush dancing over her cheeks, but she looks completely serious when she utters her next sentence.  
  
“I’m in love with you.”  
  
Harry’s pulse skyrockets, and for a few seconds there’s nothing but static in her ears. She recognises the light traces of fear around Louis’ eyes though, and reaches out to smooth them away.  
  
“Me too,” she whispers. “So in love with you.” And it’s scary, should be too much, too soon, but more than anything, it’s right.  
  
She feels Louis let out a shaky breath and then they’re kissing again. Harry can taste the sweetness of marshmallows on Louis’ mouth, follows it with her tongue. At Louis’ fingers digging into her sides, she lets out an involuntary moan  
  
That’s when the chair breaks under their joined weight. Harry falls flat on the ground, Louis on top of her. Thankfully, the grass is soft and the fall short. “You alright?” Louis asks, gently feeling the back of Harry’s head.  
  
“Yeah, good,” Harry says. “Really good.” The statement comes with an exaggerated wiggle of her eyebrows. She’s so casual and smooth, it’s unbelievable. Almost as if every bit of her isn’t still yelling with how overwhelmed and happy she is.  
  
Louis rolls her eyes fondly, before leaning in. “Want you,” she whispers against Harry's lips. A helpless, needy noise escapes Harry at that, and her and Louis scramble to their feet as fast as they can.  
  
“Tent, please,” Harry says. Louis nods quickly. They leave the chair for what it is.  
  
Harry tries to zip up the tent behind them, but Louis is plastered over her back, planting hot kisses on her neck, sucking and biting. If Harry leaves the last bit of the flap undone, no one can blame her. She turns to Louis and her heart stutters at the look she finds in those blue eyes, the sheer heat, intensity and emotion there. Harry’s fingers shake lightly as she reaches for Louis’ shirt, not breaking their gaze. Louis nods. Harry pulls the shirt off, revealing the black bikini still underneath it.   
  
“Yours too,” Louis says, her voice rough. Harry obliges, too flustered to try and make it look sexy. Louis’ look suggests she succeeded at that regardless.  
  
“Fucking obscene yellow bikini,” she mutters. “You have no idea what you do to me.”  
  
Harry flushes, traces a finger over Louis’ tummy. “Think I do, though.”  
  
Louis reaches behind Harry, rests her fingers lightly on the clasp of Harry’s yellow bikini top.  
  
“Please,” Harry breathes. Louis unclasps the top and throws it to the side.  
  
“Look at you,” she says softly, openly gazing at Harry’s boobs and hardened nipples. “So beautiful.”  
  
She leans forward, breath warm on Harry’s skin.  
  
“Can I?” she asks. Harry shudders.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Louis gives her nipple a teasing lick and Harry arches into it, needing more, but also -  
  
“Lou,” she gasps, as Louis starts sucking and licking in earnest. “Can I - want you so bad.”  
  
Louis sits up and pulls Harry closer at that, kissing her deeply. Their bodies automatically start moving against each other, grinding and writhing.  
  
“What do you want, babe?” Louis asks, mouthing along Harry’s jaw.  
  
“Want to get my tongue on you, please, want to taste you,” Harry rambles. She can still smell the campfire in Louis’ hair, the dark scent of it mixing with perfume and something purely _Louis_. It’s making it hard to form complete sentences.  
  
Louis pulls back to look at her with a baffled, vaguely amazed smile.  
  
“Are you sure? Here, already?”  
  
“Yes, I’m so sure, I’ve wanted to for so long.” Even as turned on as she is, desperate to get her mouth on Louis, Harry recognises the concern in that special, gentle way Louis has for her and places a soft kiss on her cheek, like a promise. _I trust you.  
  
_ Louis smiles. “Well, if you insist."  
  
She pulls off her own bikini top, before guiding Harry’s hands to the buttons on her shorts. Harry opens them eagerly and pulls the shorts down over Louis’ ankles. Just the small, black bottoms left now. Harry moves up again, though, and peppers Louis’ collarbones with tiny kisses instead. Harry takes her time moving back down, curling her tongue around Louis’ nipples, delighting in the high _‘ah’_ it draws from Louis, and sucking the soft skin beneath her boob. She mouths over Louis’ tummy and revels in the way the light from the campfire is shining through the canvas to dance over the soft chub there.  
  
“Beautiful,” she whispers into the skin. When she brushes her nose over the light trail of hair leading down, she can feel Louis’ stomach muscles jump, and gently bites down at the edge of Louis’ bottoms, before looking up. Louis is watching her intensely, the light of the flames dancing over her flushed face.  
  
They share a breathless smile, and Harry sits up for a moment as she uses the pink tie she often wears around her wrist to put her hair into a bun. She’d swear she can hear Louis gasp at that. Then she’s back between Louis’ legs and slowly, almost reverently, pulls off the black bikini bottoms.  
  
“You, too,” Louis says, blue eyes a little glazed over already, while Harry strips off her own shorts and bottoms, and flings them into a corner of their tent. “Gorgeous.”  
  
Harry blushes lightly, wants to spend days mapping out Louis’ body, telling her exactly how much she loves every single part of her and how incredibly beautiful she is. The overwhelming excitement that fizzes through her when she realises that she will actually get to do that, that they’re _a thing_ now, makes her a little light-headed. For now, she settles on pressing a kiss to the coarse line of curls trailing down Louis’ cunt.  
  
Louis’ hands immediately fly into Harry’s hair, a few locks loosening from the bun. A wave of arousal breaks through Harry and she gives Louis’ lips a lick, moaning at the taste. The way Louis’ fingers tighten their grip is enough encouragement for Harry as she really gets to it, licking and tasting and lapping up the slightly salty slick. Louis releases little noises every now and then, moans and gasps, and whines when Harry teases around her clit.  
  
Every tiny reaction sends sparks up Harry’s spine. She barely notices how she’s grinding down against the bed herself, trying to find friction, because Louis has started rocking her hips up to meet Harry’s tongue and it’s fucking heaven. Harry has to press a hand against her own cunt for a second, closing her eyes.  
  
“You like that, baby?” Louis says, still watching her. There's a light sheen of sweat covering her body and Harry can’t get enough of her, constantly needs to be closer.  
  
As if she knows exactly what Harry is thinking, Louis brings her free hand down and tangles it with Harry’s. Harry keeps at it like that, giving occasional licks over Louis’ clit now, or pushing her tongue deeper into her. She can feel it when Louis gets close, when her movements get more frantic and she starts calling Harry’s name all reverent and breathy, in a way that goes straight to Harry’s cunt. Then Louis pulls on their linked hands, and brings her other hand up to cup Harry’s face.  
  
“Up,” she murmurs. Harry does as she’s told and clambers up Louis’ body until their mouths meet, both of them more gasping and licking than actually kissing. Harry lets out a loud moan when suddenly she feels Louis’ fingers trail over her clit, dragging in the slick heat of her pussy, moving up and down in a maddening tempo.  
  
Harry twists her body so their cunts fit together. One of Louis’ hands is moving between them, the other still tangled with Harry’s. The drag of their wet skin together punches the breath out of Harry and she doesn’t think she’s ever been this turned on before; the fire beneath her skin is ruthless and she can feel it - feel Louis - everywhere. They move together, chanting each other’s names with the little breath they can catch. Harry kisses Louis’ neck, while Louis mouths over her collarbones, and Harry is close, so close -  
  
“Louis,” she sobs, unable to say anything more than that.  
  
“I know, baby,” Louis whispers, her voice catching on the last word. “Come for me.”  
  
Harry does, her hand tightening its grip on Louis’ as her orgasm breaks over her in waves, making her legs clench and her stomach shake. She presses her mouth to Louis’ skin, just breathing her in. Her fingers find Louis’ clit and - God, she’s so wet - it only takes a few strokes before Louis is following her over the edge, repeating Harry’s name over and over, while Harry gently pets her hair. They tangle together afterwards, their fingers running over sweat-slick skin and through sex-mussed hair. And it should be too soon, and maybe they should just wait and - Harry is done waiting.  
  
“I love you,” she says, a whisper into Louis’ hair. Louis closes her eyes and presses kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth, short and sweet.  
  
“I love you, too.” Louis lets out a small laugh. “Have for the longest time, you tit.” She strokes the side of Harry’s face. “I can’t believe we only got here now, when you’re moving away in less than a month.” Harry turns onto her side so she can face Louis properly. The fact that Louis knows Harry will still go through with what she needs to do says everything, really.   
  
“We’ll figure it out, somehow,” Harry says, confident. “We’ve waited this long, I’m not giving up anytime soon."  
  
“Neither am I,” Louis promises, tangling her pinky with Harry’s. Before either of them can say anything else, there’s a shuffling noise from outside, followed by someone cursing under their breath.  
  
“Fucking fire hazards, all of you,” comes Zayn’s voice. And then, louder: “I hope it was worth it!”  
  
Harry giggles. “Hm, I don’t know, I’d say it was.”  
  
Louis lightly pokes her in the side, her smile fond and bright. “Let’s not tell Zayn so just yet.”  
  
Harry smiles back at her and meets her halfway for a kiss, their mouths moving gently, and ever so slowly. They have a little less than a month left, after all, and if it’s up to Harry, the rest of their lives, too. There’s no need to hurry.  
  
So no, like Socrates, Harry doesn’t know anything, but she can feel that this - having Louis in her arms and knowing they’ll figure it out - is all she’ll ever need to know.

 

 

 


End file.
